


One More Bad Excuse

by Ardatli



Category: Young Avengers
Genre: 16 is legal in Canada, Fluff and Angst, It All Ends Well, M/M, Underage in USA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 16:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ardatli/pseuds/Ardatli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is full of changes. Losing his mother was one, losing his home was another. Teddy can't begin to cope with the idea that he might be losing Billy, too. </p><p>(or as Khirsah would say, ‘Teddy has a sad; Billy makes it better.’)</p><p>For the prompt 'jealous Teddy.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	One More Bad Excuse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beccs_art](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Beccs_art).



> This was written for Beccs_art, as part of an art exchange. Set post-Family Matters, pre-Children’s Crusade. 
> 
> Thanks, cupcakes and my eternal gratitude go to DCS, caterpills and khirsah for read-throughs and editing at various stages of the project.

_One more bad excuse_

_Before you turn me loose;_

_Give me something to remember you by._

-         Lie to Me, Shane Mack (Shelter Soundtrack)

 

See, here’s the thing. It’s not about anything that _Billy’s_ done.

Billy doesn’t understand how beautiful he is. He doesn’t see the contrast that his dark hair makes against his skin when it falls over his forehead, or the long slim lines of his fingers when he brushes it out of the way. He doesn’t know how his eyes light up when he’s talking about something he loves, or how his lower lip gleams after he’s been chewing on it. He can’t see the way he moves, in costume or out of it, when all that bundled-up energy explodes out of him. He’s never seen himself suspended in the air, lit up like a star or a supernova, in that moment when the whole universe stops and holds its breath.

He doesn’t see himself the way Teddy does.

And that’s good, in one sense, because Billy’s grounded in a way that he might not be otherwise. And it’s not, because it means he has no clue about the impact he has on some people.  

Maybe it’s always been like this and Teddy’s only seeing it now that they’re going to the same school. Or maybe it’s something that Billy’s grown into over the past year, along with his muscles and his powers.

He gets looks now, in the hall and on the street, and from guys as well as girls. Measuring and appraising looks that shouldn’t bother Teddy.

Except when they do.

It’s easy to tell himself that he’s being dumb. Billy _loves_ him. While he’s not always the greatest decision-maker in the world, he’d never do anything deliberately cruel, like cheat.

But Teddy never once thought that his mother was capable of being cruel, either, and she’d been lying to him his entire life. When everything a guy thinks he knows about the world, about his parents, about himself – when all of that vanishes in the space of a minute, it’s normal to feel off-balance. Like there’s not just one more shoe waiting to drop, but a billion of them. And at night when he closes his eyes, Billy sprawled, sleeping, in his room across the hall, that sword of Damocles seems very real.

So maybe he’s being melodramatic. Maybe he’s entitled to be. Maybe it’s wrong to need Billy so much, to need to be _sure_ of him so much, but powers aside, Billy’s always been the stronger one.

It’s why it feels safe to hold on to him a little too much. Why it’s scarier than anything to think of a day when Billy might not be right _there_ , right beside him. Because in less than a day, Billy and the rest of the Young Avengers went from being a really good part of his life to being the only thing _left_ of his life.

The new school’s not been so hard to get used to. He didn’t have a lot left at his old one anyway. Not after he turned his back on Greg – or Greg turned his back on him – or however you wanted to frame it.

“After you finally found your balls, you mean.” Tommy kicks his heels against the scuffed plastic seat of the lunchroom chair, balancing precariously on the top. He could be halfway around the world in the time it would take the chair to hit the ground if he fell; Teddy doesn’t bother trying to knock the back legs out from under him. 

“Whatever,” Teddy shrugs, then adds, “I don’t see you going back to Jersey,” just to drive the point home.

“Why go back to that shithole when I can go to Cancun instead?” Tommy’s voice is brittle, even as he gloats, and Teddy should apologize. He doesn’t really feel like it right now, though. Not when Colin Beacham has stopped Billy on the other side of the cafeteria and has been talking to him for a full fifteen minutes of their half-hour lunch. He’s tall and blond, like Teddy, and he’s got broad shoulders from football, and he’s assigned to be Billy’s partner for some big geography project that’s been eating all of Billy’s time this term.

“You want I should kneecap him for you?” Tommy’s lounging back in his chair now, actually sitting on the seat like he’d been there for hours, foot up on his knee and doing a truly awful Joe Pesci impression. “Seriously,” he drops the act. “Guy’s a dick.”

Teddy looks away, pushes his cold fries around on his plate before giving up and shoving them in Tommy’s direction. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, as Tommy crams them all into his mouth at once.

Except he does, and he _does_ mind, even though he’s told Billy that he doesn’t.

He hates the way Colin stares at Billy in the hallway after class, and the dirty looks he gives Teddy over Billy’s shoulder when he thinks Billy can’t see. He minds how Colin’s number found its way into Billy’s phone, how their project is taking up almost all of Billy’s free time, and the way he always seems to know when Billy and Teddy have found a moment alone. It’s not like they get many chances, with two kids and Tommy hanging around the apartment all the time, and Mrs. Kaplan’s amazing radar for underage shenanigans.

It’s like Colin’s mutant power or something, to know exactly when Billy’s hands are sliding up under Teddy’s shirt, and Billy’s hips are moving between Teddy’s hands, his mouth mint-fresh, or sweet like cherry coke.

And almost every time, Billy’s phone will ring with some project-related emergency. He looks apologetic when he stops to answer it, at least. And when he goes into his room to finish the call, it gives Teddy time to get control over the irritation that’s made his skin shade hot and a little bit green.

He still wants to flush the phone down the toilet.

That, or (and this is where Teddy is actually a bad person, and maybe that’s his supervillain Skrull side finally coming through) he wants to go through it. To have ten minutes alone with Billy’s phone to read his saved text messages. And maybe look at his call log, just to see if he’s really talking to Colin as much as it seems like he is.

And to find out who actually calls whom.

Because Billy’s a good guy. He’s the best guy Teddy knows. But that doesn’t always mean as much as it should. It’s easy to get your head turned when someone keeps coming to you, telling you that you’re needed, that you’re special, that you’re the only one who can fill that empty place in their life.

Teddy should know.

And not even Billy is perfect.

Except that he’s surgically attached to that damn phone, and Teddy can’t remember if he was always like this, or if it’s something new. Because so many things have turned upside down over the past year that it all blurs at the edges.

Billy shows Teddy his phone sometimes, when it’s a funny text from Kate; or Eli’s on a rampage about something that happened at school, or in the news; or to laugh at one of Tommy’s random tourist selfies – doing handstands on the Great Wall, or flipping off one of the furry-hat guards at Buckingham Palace.

Billy never shows Teddy the texts he gets from Colin.

Teddy’s not going to ask, because he’s not going to be That Guy. He refuses to be That Boyfriend with the trust issues and the need for reassurance. They’ve got enough to deal with, all of them, between superhero-ing, all the insurance and guardian paperwork after his mom- after he and Tommy moved in with the Kaplans.

There’s just too much going on to give Billy something _else_ to worry about. Teddy’s going to have to cope with it on his own.

Because someday, he’ll lose Billy. And maybe it won’t be to a Doombot, or Kang, but to another boy. A boy who tastes like springtime instead of blood, who doesn’t wake up biting back screams, still half-stuck in dreams of spaceships, and prophecies, and fire. A boy who isn’t clinging to Billy like a lifeline, or putting the weight of far too many grownup problems onto sixteen-year-old shoulders.

But Teddy can _change._ Every day, he’s healing a little more, letting go a little more. His mother and everything associated with her, that’s all still balled up tight and tucked away in the hole inside his chest. He’s not ready to look at that now, not ready to unpack the lifetime of lies and love that coexisted so seamlessly.

But he is getting better at putting on the face, at ignoring the raw edges and smiling for the outside world.

If Billy wants something different, some _one_ different, then Teddy could do that too, he could _be_ -

_No._

No, he couldn’t. And that’s the problem. Because he’s found a skin that fits, this time, and he’s not ready to slide out of it again.

Not even for Billy.

So if it turns out that Billy wants Colin after all; that his recent distance and distraction are because he’s thinking about a tall blond boy with brown eyes instead of blue, two living parents and not nearly as much baggage trailing around behind him-

Teddy doesn’t have a say in it. He’s going to have to let him go.

And if that thought makes him cry, when the room is dark, the smell of smoke is thick in his nose and throat and the rest of the world is still asleep, well. He can shift away the red eyes and the puffiness before he gets up, and the pillowcase dries again long before the sun rises.

No-one else ever has to know.

(Tommy might suspect something. He’d walked in on Teddy once. Teddy had been at the bathroom sink washing his face after a bout of grief and longing that had left him shaking, curled up tight with his fist jammed into his mouth so that he wouldn’t wake anybody up. And that would have worked, if Tommy hadn’t come home late, and opened the bathroom door. Teddy had a suspicion that he hadn’t been able to shift fast enough, to step sideways into Happy Teddy _smoothly_ enough, for Speed to miss it. But he hadn’t _said_ anything. He’d just poked him in the shoulder, muttered something that sounded like ‘frozone’ or ‘bro code,’ and vanished again.)

\--

One day, he gets his chance. It’s early morning, Billy’s showering, and Teddy’s in Billy’s room for completely legitimate purposes. He still can’t find his math book, but Billy’s phone is right there. Just, sitting there on his nightstand, beside his alarm clock. And the message light is blinking.

Billy would be in the shower for at least another five minutes, then add time to shave and mess around with his hair. The mini-Kaplans were already down in the kitchen for breakfast. He could take a quick look, put it back, and he wouldn’t get caught.

Then he would know. He could find out what Billy had been texting about last night when Teddy had been lying on the floor struggling with sines and cosines. He knew what he’d find; a half-dozen complaints about their science teacher, probably, a homework question, maybe some comments from Kate about last week’s Game of Thrones.

Or it might be the worst-case scenario.

Billy could have been sexting last night and Teddy wouldn’t have known, lying there at Billy’s feet. What if Billy had been doing just that, imagining all the things he wanted to do to Colin, all the ways he would make his body sing, with his hands and lips and tongue?

When Billy had bounded off the bed after that, flattened himself on top of Teddy, his chest pressed against Teddy’s back and their legs tangling – what if it hadn’t been because Teddy was somehow irresistible, lying there in his track pants and a ratty old t-shirt?

Maybe it was only because Teddy was the one who was _there_.

And that’s worse, because it means that Teddy is hanging on to the illusion of the life he wants, bound by promises that only hold weight so long as they both mean them.

Billy’s phone is cool in his hand, the decal on the back slightly rough against the pads of his fingers. It’s lighter than it looks, a few ounces of plastic and metal. It buzzes again and Teddy almost drops it, but then he’s moving, his thumb reaching out almost of its own accord to type in Billy’s password.

R – U – X – P – 1 – N. Because his boyfriend is a jerk.

[Incorrect password!]

His stomach isn’t sinking so much as it is turning itself inside out, because when did Billy change it? The last time Teddy had borrowed Billy’s phone, the password had worked just fine.

That had been almost a month ago. BC. Before Colin.

“Oh, hey!” The door closes behind him and Teddy just about jumps out of his skin, he’s so on edge. His fear and guilt squash together into a solid lump in his throat and he can’t force words past it. So he just turns and stares and holds the shift tight so that he doesn’t let everything he’s feeling play out across his face. Billy’s mostly naked, just a green towel around his waist, and even though he’s been caught snooping, even though Billy’s going to notice the phone in his hand in the next breath, Teddy still can’t help himself. He stares, because if this goes south the way it might, this could be his last chance.

And Billy’s still so stupidly beautiful that he aches with it. His shoulders are broader now than when they first met, his abs more cut. His chest narrows down to his waist, long and lean, and his nipples are a shade darker than his skin and tight from the chill in the air. Teddy’s hand fits around his hip so perfectly; his thumb sits right there in the groove that the towel’s hiding.

The first time they had made out it had been awkward, all elbows and teeth and neither of them having the first clue about anything, except how good it felt to kiss, and to touch. Since then, though, they’ve learned to fit together. They click into place like Lego blocks or jigsaw puzzle pieces, every edge matching, and Teddy would swear on a stack of bibles that Billy had been made just for him.  

The urge to mark Billy comes back in a surge, hot and driving. He wants to lay Billy down and suck bruises into his skin. He could magic them away if he wanted to, but in Teddy’s private fantasy he won’t. He lets Teddy do it, bite and suck and cover him with little red and purple marks that proclaim to everyone else: ‘ _mine_. This boy is mine, and I will fight you for him.’

He doesn’t, he can’t. Billy grins at the way Teddy’s eyes wander, and then he frowns when he looks at his phone in Teddy’s hand. Does he flinch, or is that just Teddy’s imagination?

“It was buzzing,” Teddy tries, holding it out to Billy. His chance to really _know_ has just slipped through his fingers, foiled by a changed password. If there was anything on there that he wasn’t meant to know, Billy would have it gone the moment Teddy stepped out into the hall. “I thought I should check, in case it’s important. But your password’s not working.”

Billy’s expression clears, and doesn’t Teddy feel like a gigantic shitheel. He doesn’t lie to Billy; that’s not how this relationship works. Except right now, in over his head, he’s not so sure.

“Oh yeah,” Billy replies, and he grabs his phone, punching in a new code. “I forgot to tell you. Tommy was messing with it the other day, so I changed my password. It’ll take him all of fifteen seconds to figure it out again, but it’ll drive him nuts having to use it,” he finished with a flash of glee.

Teddy’s math book is sitting on the edge of Billy’s desk, and he grabs it. Anything to keep from looking. “What’s the new one?” he asks instead, raising an eyebrow.

“TommyisaButthead, capital T and capital B,” Billy replies with a flash of a wicked grin, and Teddy falls in love all over again. “Oh hey, it’s Kate,” he adds, scrolling through a long list of messages that bring a little crease to the middle of his forehead before he goes back to the top one. Teddy can’t read them from there, and he doesn’t try. He wants to, but he doesn’t. Because he’s had a reprieve, a chance to be a good person again, and he’s going to try and take it. “She wants to hang out after school today. Do you want to?”

It only takes a second before Teddy nods. “Yeah. Definitely.” Then he gets entirely distracted by the way Billy’s shoulders flex when he turns to grab a shirt from his closet.

He manages to get one red mark sucked into Billy’s skin, high on his throat where none of his shirts will hide it, before Billy’s mom catches them and chases him out of the room. He can hear her talking at Billy halfway down the hall to the kitchen, and for once Teddy’s actually glad that she’s been treating _him_ with kid gloves.

\--

He still doesn’t have his answers. What he does have, that he takes a particularly perverse kind of glee in, are the glares Colin aims at him in gym class once he sees Billy’s neck. He accidentally-on-purpose forgets to take the fall when Colin tackles him, and the look on the stupid jerk’s face when he literally bounces off him and Teddy snaps the ball to Jason is totally worth the chance that someone will notice.

It’s another six days and two hours after that before Billy’s project with Colin is due, and Billy swings even more wildly between vanishing for hours, or being all over him. That should be a good thing, that second bit, but it’s got a weird overtone to it, like Billy’s walking on eggshells as well. It can’t last like this, _won’t_ last, but it’s an uneasy truce of some kind for a battle that neither of them ever acknowledge is happening. He doesn’t have the strength right now for more.  He’s just so damn _tired_.

(Yeah, he swears. Not often where anyone can hear him, because that wouldn’t match the ‘nice kid’ face that he wears the most, but he does know the words, thank you very much. You grow up in New York, you learn some pretty useful phrases for all occasions.)

That last week goes by faster than he thinks it will, and other than the night that Billy skips out on training to go over to Colin’s house to finish the presentation, it goes pretty well. And he thinks he’s got the whole jealousy thing under control now.

Because training night was a total clusterfuck without Billy, and as Teddy was plummeting to the ground, the grass and trees of the park rising up to meet him way too quickly, the only real thought in his mind was ‘Billy would have caught me by now.’

So, as Vision grabbed him and almost pulled his arm out of its socket before dropping him lightly to the ground to heal, it got him thinking. He trusts Billy with his life, and not in the figurative sense. He _literally_ trusts that, when his life is in danger, Billy will be there to save him. He believes in it so strongly that he keeps looking over his shoulder during the fight, sure that Billy will appear at any second, somehow knowing through whatever cosmic connection they have that Teddy needs him.

And even though Billy didn’t show, and even though it was only a practice fight, and his healing factor took care of the shoulder thing before he got home- it didn’t matter. He puts his life in Billy’s hands every day. The least he can do is trust him to be just as careful with his heart.

It mostly helps.

He doesn’t even think about it before he steals a quiet minute for a hug when Billy gets home from Colin’s house. It’s only after he lets go that he realizes that Billy smells right, like his regular soap, and he kissed Teddy back like he was starving.

 If he didn’t go looking for that information consciously, he shouldn’t feel guilty about being relieved.

He leaves Billy’s phone and email alone.

\--

Teddy’s got basketball after school the day of Billy’s big presentation, and Billy has to pick up Aaron from bar mitzvah class and make sure he gets to swimming, so they don’t see each other until they’re both back at the apartment that evening. The Kaplans are out – between Aaron’s swimming class and Jacob’s karate thing, they get burgers on the way home and leave the teenagers to fend for themselves.

Teddy’s curled in the corner of the big couch ignoring his Spanish verb conjugations and carefully not watching the way the clock numbers change. The door opens with a click that all but echoes through the quiet apartment, and Billy barrels through the door in a burst of energy that makes the whole place seem to light up that much extra, just because he’s in it.

Just _breathing_ hurts, because how can Teddy be expected to give this up? Billy’s so much more than anyone else knows. He’s lightning and shrapnel, a pure distilled force of nature, galvanized and compressed into human form.

Teddy smiles back at him despite himself, at Billy’s exuberant entrance, at the careless way he flings his backpack on to the coffee table, and the way he actually goes up and over the back of the couch instead of around it.  

“Oh thank _god,_ ” Billy says, and flops down beside Teddy. Or at least he tries to, because he misses somehow. Momentum grabs him and he starts to slide off in a flail of elbows and knees, only saving himself by grabbing on to the hand that Teddy automatically flings out to catch him. Teddy’s Spanish book ends up on the floor instead, but he doesn’t mind. Because Billy’s hand is wrapped around his arm, and when he hauls Billy back up, Billy settles down behind Teddy’s knees, folding his own legs over Teddy’s.

He’s home, and he’s warm and _real_. Teddy reaches out to him but before he can do more than brush his fingers against the back of Billy’s neck, he’s already pulling that damned phone out of his pocket.

Teddy is about a hair’s breadth away from grabbing it and throwing it through the apartment window.

“What are you doing?” he asks instead, and his voice sounds grumpy and dark even to himself.

Billy doesn’t seem to notice. “Deleting Beacham from my contacts,” he says breezily, poking at the screen. “We presented our project today – it went amazingly well, by the way, thanks in no small part to yours truly. And now I can finally get him out of my phone. I have no idea what this guy’s problem is,” Billy complains, shifting gears so fast that Teddy’s head spins. “He couldn’t move a stupid _comma_ without texting me about it.” He’s so earnest and confused that Teddy wants to crawl over him and hug him for being so cute and so, so stupid about some things.

“Maybe it’s mean,” Billy admits softly, looking guilty about something, “but I don’t have the energy to hold his hand through his big gay crisis. Just because I’m one of the only guys out at school doesn’t mean I have to be the agony aunt for the rest of them.” He stares at his phone screen for a moment, then tosses it on to the table. “I know, I know,” he groans and leans back, and Teddy’s still too off-balance to figure out what to say, because this isn’t one of the scenarios that he’s run through a dozen times. He has no planned escape for this. So he sits and lets Billy talk. “You’re going to tell me to be more compassionate. That coming out isn’t easy, and at least you and I had each other for support. But honestly, Teddy.” He opens one eye, just a little, and stares at Teddy from beneath those ridiculous dark lashes. “The guy just bugs me.”

Now Teddy knows full well that he’s never said anything to anyone about his suspicions, as embarrassing and ridiculous as they are. There’s no way Billy could know. Which means he’s doing this spontaneously. And _that_ means that even though Colin Beacham definitely has a crush on Billy, Billy isn’t interested in _him_.

The world shifts around him again, the reverse of the way it’s supposed to go, and Teddy can keep his shape and let the rest of it resettle into a better, easier form. Billy fits right back in beside him again, the yang to his yin. “No speech,” Teddy promises, a great gulf of relief opening up to swallow him. His head is swimming with it, and he can barely breathe. Then, as offhandedly as he can force it to sound, “I’ve always thought Colin was a bit of a creep.”

There’s a prickling behind his eyes that he shifts away before it can turn into tears. There’s no way he can explain it – why he’d be crying about Billy deleting a phone number – without it turning into a big Oprah-style confessional, and he’s just not there yet. He’ll probably never be there, and if that means he never has to think or talk about the last few weeks again, that’s just fine.

It’s all falling in on him now, the nights he’s lost sleep, and the images that played out behind his eyes. He’d imagined a dozen different ways he’d walk in on them, someday. Or the different tactics Billy might choose to finally say goodbye.

Even if it does happen someday, it’s not happening now, and it’s just as disorienting to find himself standing on solid ground as it was to lose his footing in the first place. He folds himself up and over, tackling Billy down to the couch and curling around him possessively. “M’ glad you’re home,” he murmurs, too honestly, into Billy’s hair.

Billy doesn’t hesitate. He wraps his arms around Teddy and throws one leg over his hip, snugging their bodies together from head to ankle. Teddy consciously measures his breathing to match Billy’s, notes absently that his heart has slowed to beat in time with Billy’s pulse. Billy’s hair smells like his citrusy gel, his own skin-and-musk boy-smell lingering underneath. Teddy nuzzles into it, breathes _Billy_ down into his soul.

“Hey, Teddy,” Billy asks him after a minute, and Teddy presses in deeper, holds on tighter, his face buried in Billy’s hair. “Are you okay?” His hand never stops moving on Teddy’s back, stroking up and down like he’s patting a cat, and Teddy rolls his neck up into it. “You’ve been kind of weird, lately.”

“Oh, like you’re normal?” Teddy replies, out of habit more than anything. He doesn't want to have this conversation, and his fingers are twisting up tight in the hem of Billy's t-shirt.

That seems to trigger something in Billy and the words bubble out of him in a rush. "Hah. It's just- My mom said I had to back off, to 'respect your boundaries and let you process things at your own emotional pace.'" His voice when he says that is so Rebecca Kaplan that Teddy can't help laughing. The tension in Billy's frame leeches out somewhat when he does, and he settles his fingers into Teddy's hair. "But I'm not good at waiting, Tee. If you want to talk about... stuff... or not… that's what boyfriends are for, isn't it?"

And he sounds more lost than Teddy feels, which you'd think would be difficult. What's not difficult is lifting his head up to look Billy in the eye - really _look_ , for the first time in a long time. His eyes are cliché-brown, a darker ring around the edge, and staring into them still feels like falling into a black hole. If he looked long enough and deep enough he would see the galactic core, a billion billion perfect burning stars.

Right now, he looks tired and worried and a little bit sad.

"It is," Teddy agrees, and then doesn't he feel like the jerk? But his lips are resting against Billy's throat and the vibrations when he speaks make an answering flutter deep inside. "I will," he promises, and Billy's hands are tight on his shoulders again, his thumbs rubbing circles like prayers on either side of his spine. "Just... not yet. I can’t do it yet."

Billy only nods, like it’s the answer he expected. Teddy feels the movement instead of seeing it, because his eyes are still screwed tight. “Whenever,” Billy says. Teddy’s heart is speeding up despite himself, and Billy’s hands on his back are the best thing he’s ever felt. “I’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”

Teddy kisses him then, because he can’t do anything else. He kisses him and puts everything into it, pushing all the helplessness and fear into that place where their lips and tongues are meeting. Billy takes them; he takes them and he turns them into beauty and wonder and he gives them right back. Teddy props himself up on his elbows, one on either side of Billy, and he kisses him again.

Except this time Billy tenses, and he shifts under Teddy like something’s uncomfortable. It takes Teddy about a half-second too long to understand why. The flush rising on Billy’s cheeks and the stammered half-apology about timing that come along with the firm and insistent nudge at his hip go a long way to explaining it, though.

“It’s good,” he murmurs instead, and he rolls down into it as Billy rocks up, and it’s very good.

A little while later it’s gotten _better_ than ‘very good’ and they’re barreling headfirst toward ‘fucking _amazing_ ’ when a burst of wind makes the door and windows shake. Billy’s hand stops moving and Teddy freezes in place with his eyes wide. 

"Owmyeyescomeonyoujerksyouhave _bedrooms_.” Tommy slows down long enough to make syllables that make sense. “Heads up, dorks. You've got two minutes to get your pants on before the Kaplan clan get upstairs. You’re welcome.”

He’s gone for most of those two minutes. By the time Geoff and Rebecca and the kids come in the front door, Tommy, Teddy and Billy are sprawled in the living room with their books open. Only the way Billy’s cheeks and ear tips are flushed bright red suggests that anything might be not quite how it looks.

It’s not until later, after they’ve dumped the popcorn bowl in the kitchen sink and thrown their books and binders into their backpacks, that Teddy realizes he’s wearing Billy’s shirt, and Billy has Teddy’s on inside out. At least they’re similar enough to each other that it’s possible the Kaplans didn’t notice. He keeps Billy’s, though; tucks it under his pillow so that his bed smells like Billy, and he sleeps better than he has in a long time. And when Billy catches his eye across the breakfast table the next morning, and rests his foot on top of Teddy’s with an easy pressure that says nothing more than ‘I’m here,’ the morning seems brighter than any morning has in a while. 


End file.
